talking to my dad about depression
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It's a generational thing. Your dad's generation didn't talk about mental health, so there was no such thing as mental health. If you had serious depression, you were just weak and grumpy. All you could do about depression was soldier through it. Now we talk about it and it's more accepted. Now we actually try to tackle the problems of mental health instead of tucking it away.
Now we talk about it and it’s more accepted.
That sounds like soldiering through it with extra steps.
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It's a generational thing. Your dad's generation didn't talk about mental health, so there was no such thing as mental health. If you had serious depression, you were just weak and grumpy. All you could do about depression was soldier through it. Now we talk about it and it's more accepted. Now we actually try to tackle the problems of mental health instead of tucking it away.
TL;DR blue did not exist to some people. It still does not in some cultures to some degree. Want more tangible evidence? Torquoise. How many can properly name this color?
What I am getting at. If people lack cultural, vocabulary properties, some things will never even occur to them.
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Narrator:
"You never actually get used to it."Eh, I'm pretty used to it.
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Now we talk about it and it’s more accepted.
That sounds like soldiering through it with extra steps.
And proffesional guidance, tools, medication, support and understanding from your environment and and you can recognition so you can use the social safety nets your country provides.
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What book is that from?
This comes from the introduction to "Walden, or, Life in the Woods", in which the author gets fed up with modern (1840s) society and fucks off to the woods of Massachusetts for a little over 2 years. During this time he attempted to be fully self-reliant, building his residence from the ground up and eating only what he could hunt or gather. It is emblematic of the American transcendentalism movement, which emphasized connection with nature, self-reliance, and intuitive knowledge of truth. It was, in essence, the Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance of its day, if you're aware of that book.
I read it in high school and I did not think much of it at that time. I think, perhaps, it would find more fertile ground in my thoughts now, were I to revisit it. Certainly in the decades since first reading it, I've become more sympathetic to the idea of pissing off to the woods and minding my own business until I expire.
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Why bring them onto this world then?
We actually thought about this a lot when we found out we were having kids. The thought process went kinda like to this:
throughout my life time I've often wished for death in both active and passive ways. I thought about my lot, my future and did not have the will to continue. Even through this, there were many moments and times that I have to admit I was enjoying myself. There were good times, and the hope of future good times to come is what drove me to continue.
Now that I am older, fully settled into the adult life that my choices have brought me to, my hopefulness and optimism of the future has been thoroughly crushed, and the strong wish for an end was back but this time without the means to combat it, we found out we were having kids.
The kids are blank slates, full of possibilities, full of unknowns. There are lots of people in the world, all with different experiences and different outlooks on life. Even though I am pretty much done caring about my experience, there is a small possibility that our kids will end up with a fulfilling adulthood. I happen to be fortunate to be in a position where I can provide a house, in a neighborhood with other kids their age, with people I trust. I can provide a better childhood experience than I had, and give to them things I wish I had. Should they fail to hit that tiny possibility for a satisfying adulthood, they can at least enjoy the path to get there.
It's not easy for me, money is tight, work situation is tenuous, uncertain, and I live on the brink of collapse every day, but if I can do it, I can at least take my miserable life and use it for giving something great to my successors, even if it ends for them, the same way as has for me.
Journey before destination.
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I hate to be the old dude in these conversations — but yeah… sometimes you just fucking deal. 90% of my life is depression, suicidal ideation, and intrusive thoughts. Ten percent is that I’m the life of the party, the fun guy at work. Honestly, in meetings, when it’s been dark, execs turn to me and say, “Wow, silver lining?”
And I deliver.
So… I don’t complain. I raise a family. I exercise. I see depression as the norm. Why would I think anything else if it is all I have ever known?
And yet of course there are the brief moments of satisfaction when I am doing service for others — which is how I see my work, which makes my life meaningful.
Cure for depression? Ain’t one. But there is service, which is the cure for meaninglessness.
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It's a generational thing. Your dad's generation didn't talk about mental health, so there was no such thing as mental health. If you had serious depression, you were just weak and grumpy. All you could do about depression was soldier through it. Now we talk about it and it's more accepted. Now we actually try to tackle the problems of mental health instead of tucking it away.
What if all we have done is turn it into an epidemic?
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What if all we have done is turn it into an epidemic?
Find patient zero and kill them.
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It's a generational thing. Your dad's generation didn't talk about mental health, so there was no such thing as mental health. If you had serious depression, you were just weak and grumpy. All you could do about depression was soldier through it. Now we talk about it and it's more accepted. Now we actually try to tackle the problems of mental health instead of tucking it away.
I think it's highly likely genetic in this example.
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That isn't normal?
Some forms of depression are genetic, so this is "common" but constant suicide ideation is not "normal, functioning, or healthy."
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I hate to be the old dude in these conversations — but yeah… sometimes you just fucking deal. 90% of my life is depression, suicidal ideation, and intrusive thoughts. Ten percent is that I’m the life of the party, the fun guy at work. Honestly, in meetings, when it’s been dark, execs turn to me and say, “Wow, silver lining?”
And I deliver.
So… I don’t complain. I raise a family. I exercise. I see depression as the norm. Why would I think anything else if it is all I have ever known?
And yet of course there are the brief moments of satisfaction when I am doing service for others — which is how I see my work, which makes my life meaningful.
Cure for depression? Ain’t one. But there is service, which is the cure for meaninglessness.
People are generally missing service in their lives. Thanks for the comment, from another old guy.
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Eh, I'm pretty used to it.
Narrator:
"That's a lie... -
There are two types of gays, actually.
It's ok to be the first type, but to be 4chan gay is not okay. Just as to be 4chan straight, 4chan bi or 4chan whatever is not ok.
what about ex-4chan?
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That isn't normal?
It's okay. Everything will be ok. I love you, man
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TL;DR blue did not exist to some people. It still does not in some cultures to some degree. Want more tangible evidence? Torquoise. How many can properly name this color?
What I am getting at. If people lack cultural, vocabulary properties, some things will never even occur to them.
This is the reality of what sapir-whorf was guessing at. The way it's defined is incorrect IIRC, but the real heart of it I think stemmed from this kind of reality of distinction.
The fact people think it's normal and don't realize it's not, especially once they get older simply being unwilling to think otherwise...yeah.
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This is the drawer where I keep my various lengths of wire, and this is the compartment where I keep my crippling depression, fears, and anxiety. For the fucking love of satan don't open that up, I try to forget it exists. The last time I opened it up, it nearly ate me.
No, I'm fine, why do you ask?
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The joke? Life! Haha!
Imagine wanting to be alive. Hilarious
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This comes from the introduction to "Walden, or, Life in the Woods", in which the author gets fed up with modern (1840s) society and fucks off to the woods of Massachusetts for a little over 2 years. During this time he attempted to be fully self-reliant, building his residence from the ground up and eating only what he could hunt or gather. It is emblematic of the American transcendentalism movement, which emphasized connection with nature, self-reliance, and intuitive knowledge of truth. It was, in essence, the Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance of its day, if you're aware of that book.
I read it in high school and I did not think much of it at that time. I think, perhaps, it would find more fertile ground in my thoughts now, were I to revisit it. Certainly in the decades since first reading it, I've become more sympathetic to the idea of pissing off to the woods and minding my own business until I expire.
Can confirm, fucking off from society helps.
Wife and I moved from city life to a rural area with more deer than people back in 2021. In terms of well being, the peace and nature are incredible. I never want to live in a city again.
Couldn’t completely piss off to the woods since we still need groceries, doctor, mechanic, etc., but it’s been rural enough and nobody bothers us. Now I only go into town every 5 or 6 weeks for necessities and get out as quickly as I can. I’ve become something of a hermit, but happier for it.
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Some forms of depression are genetic, so this is "common" but constant suicide ideation is not "normal, functioning, or healthy."
I do have some light form of depression at some constant rate, but never suicidal ideation.
